On Fire
by GoingVintage
Summary: He's in an outlaw motorcycle club; she studies at Tisch. If it wasn't for her sweet, distracting little behind, they never would've met. AU Puckleberry. For Puckleberry Week on Tumblr.


**Title:** On Fire

**Author:** GoingVintage

**Pairing:** Puck and Rachel

**Rating:** M

**Word Count: **18,300

**For Puckleberry Week on Tumblr – Day five: AU**

**Author's Note: ** This fic came from the fact that I'm a huge fan of _Sons of Anarchy _and Jax Teller is the baddest of the three badass TV characters that owns my heart (along with Noah Puckerman and Dean Winchester.) I've imagined Puck as a member of an MC since the moment I first got hooked on _SOA. _When you read "MC" in the story, it stands for motorcycle club. Everything I know about outlaw biker gangs, I've learned from _SOA, Gangland, _and Google! Also, the Rachel Berry that exists in this fic is one that hasn't been tainted by her "love" of Finn Hudson, as we've seen on the show. She still has her goals, dreams, and her soul in this story!

**Note**: Thought I better give another definition that you'll see in the fic: a "cut" is the leather vest an MC member wears that has his club patches on it.

* * *

That sweet little ass encased in nothing but a leotard and some tights nearly makes him wreck his bike. Working across the narrow street from a dance studio means that every once in a while, he spots a fresh, hot little piece of tail in amongst the fat old ladies and gay men hoping to work off a few extra pounds by taking a dance class at the shitty little studio.

Noah Puckerman absentmindedly backs his Harley against the curb, his eyes on the way this chick's ass shakes as she moves. Even through the dingy glass window, he can tell that she's barely five feet tall. Her legs, though, go on for-fucking-ever and that ass... _Holy Jesus, that ass_. Plump and round, he knows that she'd fit into his hands perfectly. He can practically see himself shoving her up against a wall, pushing the crotch of her leotard aside and yanking the elastic of her neckline down far enough to let him get a bite of those tits.

_Holy shit. _Puck swipes his hand over his face, snorting as he shakes his head. He can tell when she twists around and he gets a good look at her face that she probably isn't a day over 19. Her long brown hair is tugged up into a messy ponytail, her cheeks flushed as she dances. She has her full lower lip caught between her teeth and right before she spins around again, she locks eyes with him from across the street.

Killing the engine on his bike, Puck leans back into the seat. He needs to get into the garage. He's already over an hour late but considering he's been doing MC business, he doesn't think they'll care. Hell, they better _not _fucking care. His old man (well, his step-dad, anyway) runs the club, which means that he usually gets away with coming and going as he pleases.

The tiny dancer chick isn't moving anymore. Instead, she's bending over, rooting through the bag that is now at her feet. Puck nearly groans because she's either unaware that she's killing him with her ass in the air like that (and her thighs spread just enough that he can imagine his face between them) or she knows it and doesn't give a shit. When she stands up, she blots a towel across her face, readjusts her hair, and then then slips her feet into a pair of sandals. As the old mothers and heavyset middle-aged chicks began streaming through the doors and out onto the sidewalk, Puck pushes off his bike and slides his cut off his shoulders. Shoving it into the back compartment of his bike, he keeps his eyes on the door. Seconds later, his little dancer appears. She immediately locks gazes with him. Even from across the street, he sees her cheeks flame with embarrassment as his eyes blatantly move over her curves. He waggles his finger at her, beckoning for her to come over. She looks startled and shakes her head before taking off, her chin tucked into her chest. Puck can only laugh as he watches her walk away. He's seen plenty of chicks like her and knows, without a doubt, that he scares her. He's used to that reaction from girls like her. Good little girls are usually terrified of what they think they know about guys like him. He watches her disappear around a corner before turning and heading into the garage.

* * *

Rachel Berry knows that she can get into a lot of trouble for taking classes of any kind off campus. The problem is that Tisch is exceptionally competitive and dancing is her weakest skill. She knows that she's _still _a triple threat of the highest order; that fact is never in doubt. It's just that her dance classes challenge her far more than her voice or drama classes do, graduation is quickly approaching, and she wants to make sure that she's as ready as possible for what comes after she gets that diploma. As a result, she ends up way, way downtown at tiny Arturo's Dance Studio. Arturo, now old and borderline senile, was once a brilliant ballet dancer and close personal friends with Mikhail Baryshnikov (at least he _says _that he is.) Regardless of the fact that his studio is in a seedy neighborhood apparently frequented by horrifyingly scary looking motorcycle guys, Rachel feels compelled to study under the great Arturo. She's willing to do anything for her future career.

As she climbs up the steps from the subway and walks down the block, she is mindful of her surroundings. One hand is tucked inside her bag, firmly gripping the jumbo-sized can of Mace that's been her constant companion since moving to Manhattan four years before. Her eyes scan the sidewalk in front of her while she listens for approaching steps at her rear. In a neighborhood like this, she can neverbe too careful.

As she nears the studio, the sound of a wolfish whistle jolts her. Jerking her head toward the origin, she glares in the direction of the small motorcycle repair shop. A long line of Harleys (if watching _Gangland _with her fathers has taught her anything, it's what a Harley Davidson looks like) sit in front of the place and men, some with long beards, some with no hair at all, and every single one of them looking like type of terrifying brand of ruffian that she wants absolutely nothing to do with, are mingling around the them. When she hears the whistle again, she feels compelled to slow down and _really _glare toward the shop. She even pushes her sunglasses up on top of her head so that whoever is whistling at her can _see _her scrutiny and disgust. From out of the darkened garage steps the man she'd seen after her first class last Friday. He's tall, his features handsomely distinct. A cigarette dangles from between his fingers and his posture says that he is relaxed but cocky. His body gives her the impression that he spends hours in the gym and he has the kind of arms that would make a woman with less self-control than herself become tongue-tied. He's younger than most of the men around him and is missing the unattractive facial hair. He does, however, have the oddest haircut. A wide stripe of brown hair runs down the center of his head. On most people, it would look positively asinine but on this man, who fills out his jeans and t-shirt like they were tailored specifically for his body, it manages to work.

When the whistle pierces the air a third time, Rachel suddenly feels bold. Skidding to a stop, she pushes her sunglasses up off her face and glares at him squarely from across the street. "Can I help you?" she calls out.

The man seems startled that she's spoken to him but his shock only lasts for a second. He is soon ambling across the concrete toward her, a rag in one of his hands. "Nah, baby," he breezes, "I just saw you last week and was happy as hell to see your hot little ass back here again. You put on a helluva show, if you know what I mean."

"Excuse me?" Rachel stares at him with wide eyes. "Do you mean to tell me that you called attention to yourself for the single reason of sexually harassing me?"

The man blinks at her, his mouth opening slightly before he snaps it shut again. His eyes twinkle mischievously, which serves only to further rile her. She finds herself wagging her finger in his face. "I don't know who you think you are but you need to show me, and I'm sure probably thousands of other women, more respect. This is the 21st century and women are equal contributors to society, you big brute. We're _not _to be sexualized just so that you can feed your base animal instincts! You should be ashamed of yourself!" Rachel stands tall, then haughtily pulls her sunglasses back down over her eyes. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go work on my cardio and improve my technique." Reaching up, she jerks the cigarette from his mouth and stamps on it once it's lying on the ground. "And as a member of this modern society, you _know_ better than to smoke."

Spinning on her heel, she stomps away. She stays cool and collected until the moment she hears him yell from across the street that he'd see her and her perfect ass again soon. When she darts into the studio, her face feels like it's on fire.

* * *

Puck fucking hates going to Harlem. Even with his boys riding behind him and his bulletproof vest cinched around his torso, Harlem makes him nervous. He's been shot here. Twice. Once by the Outlaws and once when the Crips confused him for a dealer. He's got his Glock at the ready under his cut and a knife hooked around his calf but right until the delivery is made and he's got the cash shoved under a false bottom beneath his bike seat, he's on edge, just waiting for the shit to start. Shit _always _starts in Harlem.

Once he's cruising back toward the garage, Puck finally lets himself relax. His mind wanders back to the bitchy little dancer chick with the amazing ass and he can't help but hope to see her again. When he pulls his bike up to the garage, he sees that sweet little ass through the window of the studio. She's wearing a purple leotard this time and she's moving so fast that he can see her cheeks shaking a tiny bit. He's suddenly imagining bending her over, pounding into her as he watches that perfect ass bounce. He lets out a groan, reminding himself that it's been too fucking long since he's had some good pussy. He shoves the cash at Azimio to take care of and then mills around outside, fucking with his bike while keeping one eye trained on the studio. When class begins to let out, he crosses the street and leans against the wall by the door. When she comes outside, he's waiting for her.

"Hey." His voice is low and deep. She's clearly startled, spinning around to face him, a defiant gaze on her pretty face.

"Yes?" She questions apprehensively.

He pushes away from the wall and struts toward her. When he's just inches away, he asks, "How was class?"

She blinks once, then again. She's obviously confused about why he's making small talk because her mouth opens but no words come out before she shuts it again and pulls her bag higher up on her shoulder. "It was exhilarating, honestly. It really got my blood pumping and my heart pounding."

_Nice, _he thinks. He plasters a dirty smirk on his face and leans over just enough to meet her eyes before leering down at the low neckline of her leotard. His hand brushes against her hip, causing her to jerk away from his touch. Her eyes grow wider when he says, "I can think of a few other things that'd get your blood pumping." He strokes his thumb across her hip. "We should hang out sometime."

Before she can freak out or yell at him again, he pulls away and beings to saunter back toward his bike. "See ya soon, baby," he calls over his shoulder. By the time he throws his leg over his Harley and revs the engine, she's gone. He smiles all the way back to his apartment.

…

Two days later, Puck sees her again. She's wearing a short, wispy little white skirt over her leotard and she has a phone to her ear, gabbing away as she walks toward the studio. He watches her from across the street, hoping she'll meet his eyes. She slows to a stop as she winds up her conversation, and then slips the phone into her bag once she's done. When she lifts her gaze, she locks eyes with him. He jerks his head up in acknowledgment. She glares at him.

Puck chuckles to himself as he pulls a cigarette out of the pack. He keeps his eyes on her as he lights it, then takes a heavy drag. She rolls her eyes, waves her hand toward him dismissively, and stomps into the studio. He doesn't know shit about this girl but he already likes her. He can tell that she's full of fire.

…

He's sitting on his bike when she gets out of the studio. He had to make a short run a few blocks over and has just returned and shoved the cash at Eddie when he sees her beginning to leave. He was thinking about to heading home but now he thinks he'll hang around, maybe see if he can't talk to her again.

When she steps outside, she's talking to a heavyset man. Puck slips off his bike and strides across the street. He waits until the man waddles away before making his move. Sidling up next to her, he bumps her shoulder with his. She gives him a bored look but asks, "Why do you insist on bothering me?"

Puck snorts. "Bothering you? Can't a guy so hello to a gorgeous woman without getting the third degree?"

"You're very presumptuous, you know. How do you know I'm not married? Or perhaps even a lesbian? Why do you make the assumption that I'm single and interested in being flirted with by... by a man like you?"

"Because I'm hot," Puck reasons, "and you're hot. And I've seen you look at me enough to know that you're not into pussy. As for the married thing, I don't give a fuck about that."

She rolls her eyes and begins to step around him. Puck sticks his hand out to stop her. It makes contact with her belly and he feels her jerk in response. "I'm not gonna hurt you," he says lowly. "I'm not that kind of guy. If you want me to back off, just say back off and I will. I'm a big boy, I can handle a little rejection, but you don't gotta be afraid of me, okay?"

He knows he should move his hand but her top is thin and he can feel the warmth of her body beneath it. He waits for her to push him away, thinks that anytime now, she's going to scream. When she says, "Thank you for telling me," he's a little surprised. He slips his hand across her stomach and around to squeeze her hip before letting go of her. She peers up at him through wide eyes, clearly startled.

He steps back before raising shoving his hands in his pockets. "See ya 'round."

She just nods before dashing away.

...

By the time Rachel gets back to her dorm that night, she's an odd combination of exhausted and frazzled. She can't believe how bold and blatant that vile biker continues to be. And even though he acts like a misogynistic pig and Rachel's almost sure that he treats women terribly, a certain flutter deep inside makes her realize that her body is betraying her brain. She can't help but recall the feel of his large hand against her hip. At the moment he touched her, she should have screamed, grabbed her mace, and shot it into his eyes. She would have, too, had she felt threatened. He didn't make her feel that way, she realizes. He made her feel...strange. Like her skin was warming up from the inside out. Like a match had been lit and was flaring to life.

When she slips off her leotard, she stares at her naked reflection with a critical eye. She'd always hoped for bigger breasts but never got them. Her nipples were dark, the areolas wide. Her fingers brush over them, back and forth, until they pebble into tight points. The more she strokes them, the more intense the flame in her belly grows.

She tries to be terrible toward her own reflection as she gazes at her torso and then her thighs but as she slides her hand down her abdomen, she admits to herself that she has a beautiful body. She works hard to keep it in excellent condition. Her eyes follow the path of her hand in the mirror and she lets out a tiny little sigh when her fingers make contact with her mound. She snags her lip between her teeth at the same time that she widens her stance and then she's gasping as she strokes her finger against her clit. She's not usually one to indulge in this activity; she prefers to exercise away her sexual tension. This evening though, she lets out a low moan as she drops onto the edge of the bed, her eyes still on her body. She spreads her legs wide, the wanton way she looks in the mirror sending a thrill through her veins. She leans back on one hand while the other brushes along her slit. She's transfixed by the sight of her fingers gliding through her arousal, circling her clit, then sliding back to tease her opening. Her thighs part wider of their own volition and Rachel blatantly stares at her pussy in the mirror. Her mound is totally bare and her lips are pouty, slick with proof of her need. The sight of her own fingers spreading, prodding, flicking, makes her moan. She is compelled, though, to lose the critical eye and to look at herself in a different way. Like a lover would. Like _he _would.

Her fingers part her damp flesh, teasing until her breath begins to hitch inside her chest. Her tension welling quickly, Rachel reaches into her bedside table. She pulls out a long, thin, pink vibrator with a purple bejeweled base, quickly flipping it on to a medium setting. Leaning back again, she watches the tip of it disappear into her body. She does that once and then again and again until her head falls back. She works the toy inside her body in earnest, moaning when it fills her, sighing as she slides it back out. She chases her release with intense determination and seconds later, when it's finally there, she pushes the toy deeply inside herself, crying out as her body squeezes and caresses it. The pleasure that washes through her is intense and she's shocked when the face of a smirking, smug biker appears behind her eyelids. Slumping into her sheets, she removes the vibrator and drops it next to her as she shakes her head. Sexual attraction obviously knows _no _reason.

* * *

Puck soon figures out that Dancer Chick takes classes on Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday. He has a shitload of stuff to do for the MC but he's usually around by the time she leaves in the evening. He tries to talk to her a few times that next week but she's so cold and aloof that he backs off quickly. He doesn't need some rich, Park Avenue daddy breathing down his neck and he sure as hell doesn't need to be accused of assault, or worse, rape, just because she gets pissed off that he's hitting on her.

Finally, two weeks after he first talked to her, Puck gets his chance to make a good impression. He's late getting back to the shop because he had to drive halfway across the fucking state to make a drop and when he parks his bike, he sees one of the club's prospects across the street, trying to talk to _his _girl. She looks uncomfortable and has one hand inside her purse. Puck just knows that her small little hand is firmly wrapped around a can of Mace and if the prospect doesn't want his eyes blasted, he better back the fuck off.

He parks his bike and then struts across the street. "Yo, Prospect," he calls, "better leave the lady alone." When he moves up beside her, he adds, "I called dibs weeks ago."

The girl gapes at him and the prospect, who's kinda scrawny (Puck knows he'll never actually get patched in to the club), looks at Puck with fear in his eyes. "Fuck off," Puck growls at the guy. The prospect stumbles backwards before heading back across the street. Puck watches him go before turning his attention to the dancer.

"Thank you," she says. "I don't think he was going to hurt me but he wouldn't stop asking me if he could see my toes." She glances down at her feet. "I'm not sure why he wanted to see them."

Puck lets out a snort. He's heard the prospect talk and the dude's kind of a sick fuck. Shaking his head, he tells her, "You don't wanna know."

She blushes but flashes him a wide smile. "Well, thank you."

Puck shrugs. "No problem."

The girl waits a moment longer and then turns to leave but Puck stops her by calling out, "Hey, can I know your name at least?"

She turns back around. "Rachel. Rachel Berry."

He approaches her again, sticking out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Rachel Berry. The name's Noah Puckerman, but everybody calls me Puck."

Rachel grins at him and then grips his hand, shaking it firmly. "Nice to meet you, too, Noah. I'll see you later." Spinning back around, she heads off toward the subway. Puck watches her go, appreciating the view.

…

As it turns out, all it takes to get to know Rachel a little better is by saving her from a guy who jerks off to foot porn. The next week, he's working on his bike when class lets out. He sees Rachel come out of the studio and when she pauses on the sidewalk and looks around, he realizes that she's waiting for him. He shoves the rag he's been using into his back pocket and then heads across the street, grinning at her as he approaches. "Hey, Rachel."

She bobs her head. "Hello, Noah. How are you today?"

"Good."

The two stare at one another for so long that Puck begins to get uncomfortable. He has no idea how to talk to a girl like her. She's not like the chicks that hang around the clubhouse, just clamoring to be somebody's old lady. He can tell that she's fiercely independent and that she was raised to have a lot of self-esteem. He has no idea why she's lingering around but he takes it as a good sign.

Rachel shifts, her gaze dropping down to stare at the sidewalk. "I'm... I guess I'll go. I just wanted to say hello."

Puck reaches out and grabs her by the arm before he can really think about what he's doing. "Wait...you maybe wanna go get a burger or something?"

Her face screws into one of disgust. "I'm vegan."

"Oh, shit...yeah, a burger's probably not a good thing." Puck pauses, thinking. "Maybe...well, there's a diner up the street. They have coffee. And I'm pretty sure the french fries are vegan."

Rachel laughs. Her laugh is loud but sweet and it makes him smile. He waits for her answer and is rewarded with a bob of her head. "Sure...why not?"

…

So he learns that she's from some little shit town called Lima in Ohio. She's 21 years old, in her senior year at Tisch, where she's majoring in drama. Her best friend is a little gay dude named Kurt, she has two dads, no mom that she's willing to talk about, and she misses her purple Prius that's parked in the driveway back home.

Puck leans back against the hard, plastic diner bench and listens to her talk. And shit, does she talk. And talk. And talk. Still, he finds her entertaining. She loves Broadway and hopes to be a famous performer. As soon as she graduates, she's going to start auditioning as hard as she can because she wants to win a Tony (whatever the fuck _that _is) by the time she's 25.

When she starts asking him questions, he's not sure what to say. He tells her about the MC but leaves out the part of their business that isn't actually legal (which is the biggest part of it.) He tells her that he's 28, he's single, he works at the bike shop, and that he never even thought about going to college. When she begins to pry about his personal life, Puck relaxes in his seat and orders another cup of coffee.

"So whatcha wanna know?" He grins at her, watching her fiddle with the straw wrapper.

"I don't know," Rachel admits. "I've never met anyone in a motorcycle club. You're not exactly like what I've seen on TV." She holds up her hand. "Don't get me wrong, your friends are...but you're not."

"What can I say? I like to stay in shape and beards are fucking annoying."

Rachel giggles and then grows quiet. She looks down, taking a breath. "I don't know why I'm here, honestly. I wanted to smack you across your smug face the first time we crossed paths. I must be crazy."

Puck can practically hear the war going on inside her head. He's dealt with princesses like her before. Every once in a while, he meets a _really _good girl that wants to take a ride with a badass like him. He indulges them, yeah, leading up to and including the part where he gets his cock between their pretty little lips. Then he usually drops them, thanks his lucky stars that he uses disposable cell phones and never keeps the same number for longer than two weeks, and moves on.

Puck watches Rachel for a moment longer and then says, "I'm not really an asshole. I know I came off that way but in my defense, I was totally distracted by your ass the first few times I saw you. S'a fucking incredible ass, by the way."

Rachel gasps, then reaches across the table and smacks him on the hand. All he can do is shrug. He's always been one to tell the truth.

…

One trip to the diner turns into many. Over the next three weeks, he takes Rachel there four more times. They stay out later and later, just talking about their interests and life in New York. He doesn't mention the MC much and she honestly doesn't ask. He just discovers that he likes to be around her. She's sweet and innocent, yet he can tell that she's totally into him. She doesn't demand he give her rides on his bike (which is a sure sign that a princess is out for the whole bad boy experience); in fact, he offers her a ride back to campus several times but she refuses.

They talk about past relationships and he constantly pries, trying to find out more about her sex life. She goes tight-lipped and red-faced every time he asks but dammit, he wants to know. She's become the new, #1 star in the porno that plays inside his head (she'd look really good in leather, he's decided) and he fucking needs to know more about her. Is she a virgin? (He thinks she might be.) Has she ever given head? (He thinks she has.) Does she want to fuck him? (He hopes the answer is yes because _holy_ _shit, _he wants to fuck her.)

Their conversations slowly get a little deeper, a little more involved, until he finds himself admitting to her that he's wondered what his life would be like if he'd had taken a different path. He doesn't tell her that he pretty much joined the club when he was still a kid or about the time he spent 18 months in jail when he was 20. He hates that he wants to tell her as much as he does. He knows, though, that he's gotta keep himself in check. A sheltered girl like she obviously is can't handle the real truth about him and his life. He tries to keep focused on the fact that he wants to get her naked. That's the safe path. That's the _one _path he knows he can walk with a girl like her.

* * *

Rachel begins to think there's something wrong with her. She can't concentrate in class. Instead, she finds herself daydreaming about sunny days, the wind in her hair, and sex. She blames the conversations she's had with Noah. He's so blatantly sexual that it still catches her off-guard, but it excites her as well. He's so handsome and has an intense, almost frightening stare. But then he smiles and that intimidating facade slides away. She's attracted to him. She can't help it. He stirs longings inside her body that she didn't even realize existed. This deep desire for release never dogged her when she was dating Jesse back in high school and even now, when she flirts with Kurt's step-brother, Finn, (a boy that she finds to be adorable in an All-American quarterback kind of way and that has been on her radar for _years_), she doesn't have that urge to literally _climb_ him and hold on tight like she does whenever she sees Noah. He creeps into her thoughts at the oddest times, too. She blushes when she admits to herself that she might have to get more batteries for her vibrator soon. Pleasuring herself to thoughts of him once has turned into many, many times. She walks around with her spine nearly cracking from the tension, and no matter how many times she rubs her clit or buries her toy inside her until her whole body quakes with release, she can't shake it. Noah's making her literally _lose _her mind. She doesn't know what to do about it. She's unable to stay away from him. That much, she can at least admit to herself. Plus, she actually likes him. He's charming, funny, and he's so cocky that she can't help but be drawn to him. He's as confident as she is; she respects that.

She's leaving class when Kurt corners her. "Rachel," Kurt snaps. "I've barely seen you lately. Where are you disappearing to?"

Rachel doesn't want to tell Kurt the truth. For one, he'll probably insist on joining her. Two, if he joins her, she's sure Noah won't continue to seek her out and that thought makes her fiercely protective of her private time. After a moment of confused silence passes between her and Kurt, Rachel finally lies. "I've been studying, Kurt. I'm taking an independent study course in literature and it's incredibly time-consuming."

Kurt looks confused and for a moment, Rachel's sure he doesn't believe her. Finally, he shrugs and starts telling her about the amazing Burberry cape he purchased at Saks the day before. Rachel walks with him toward the dorm, mindful of the time. She needs to catch the train. She's got to get to class. Finally, she cuts Kurt off. "I have to go, Kurt, but let's catch up this weekend, okay?"

She turns away and begins dashing toward the door. She hears Kurt remind her that she's supposed to have dinner with Finn on Friday night and she nearly falters. She completely forgot about her date with Finn.

…

Rachel's disappointed that Noah is nowhere to be seen when she gets to Arturo's. The garage looks closed; not a single bike is parked out front. She pushes the disappointment from her mind, throwing herself into the two hour class. When she's done, she's sweating buckets and she's positive that she smells like the inside of a horse barn so it's absolutely _no _surprise that when she steps out into the evening, Noah is leaning against the wall. His gaze moves over her body as it always does. Rachel is immediately embarrassed at the way she looks but that only lasts for a second because Noah is suddenly pushing a sweaty tendril back from her face and leaning down to whisper in her ear, "You look so fucking sexy right now."

Rachel trembles as his voice washes through her. Immediately, the desire she feels for him begins humming through her body, making her limbs feel warm. His hand settles against the small of her back as he guides her across the street to stand by her bike. He leans against it, crossing one ankle over the other, and grabs her by the hips. She lets him nuzzle his nose against her neck, shivering again when he inhales deeply. She can feel his breath on her skin and it makes her wish he'd kiss her. They've played this little game for weeks and it's making her insane. She feels like she's going to crawl right out of her skin when he's around. He keeps her on edge _all _the time.

"Did you have a good night?" he asks.

Rachel nods. "I'm so sweaty. I need to go home and take a shower to cool off."

"Ya know, I could give you a ride back to campus. Nothing like the wind in your hair to cool you off."

Rachel gapes at him. She's never been on a bike. She knows it's not safe. Honestly, she knows that her brains could be spread across the street like scrambled eggs in a split second because motorcycles are _dangerous. _Puck strokes his hand down her arm and the look in his eyes is all it takes for her to say yes. He grins at her before grabbing his helmet and popping it on her head, then climbing onto the bike.

"Okay, baby," he instructs, "climb on and wrap your arms around me."

Once she's behind him, he shows her where to put her legs and when he faces forward, she cinches her arms around his torso. She scoots up and widens her knees, cradling his behind between her thighs. Rachel hears him groan as he feels her pressed against him and it makes her beam. She loves that she apparently gets to him in the same way he affects her.

Puck starts the bike and then pulls out onto the quiet street. She rattles off her address and he just nods before gunning the throttle. They zip away from Arturo's and the garage and into the thick of Manhattan traffic.

Rachel is equal parts terrified and thrilled during the ride. She's alert, her eyes moving back and forth as they speed along, but she never once lets go of Noah. Her fingers are practically digging into his chest but he doesn't seem to mind. When they slow to a stop at a red light, he lets go of the bike and puts his hands over hers. She lets him guide them down until they're sitting low on his belly, right above his zipper. She can feel his pulse moving through his veins and smell the scent of his aftershave. She doesn't know how she can feel like she's in her own little world with him when they're on the middle of a Harley in Manhattan but somehow, she's lost in a cloud that involves just the two of them. When the light turns green, he pulls away but she leaves her hands where they are. In fact, she slips her fingers beneath the waistband of his jeans just enough to let the tips of her fingers caress his bare skin, smiling against his back when she hears a low rumble in his chest.

By the time he pulls to a stop in front of her dorm, Rachel can feel that her panties are soaking wet. The exhilarating ride, coupled with the closeness of his body, leaves her more aroused than she's ever been. She tries to play cool as she climbs off the bike and primly slips the bag over her shoulder. When she looks up, his eyes are dark. His desire for her is written all over his face. She doesn't know what to say, really. She's never been in a situation like this in all her 21 years.

Rachel stands on the curb for a split second, giving Noah just enough time to climb off the bike. She watches as he moves toward her, moans when he slides his hands into her hair, and nearly groans with relief when he presses his mouth against hers. His kiss is just like she imagines it would be – forceful, skilled, and heady. His tongue coaxes her lips open, deepening the kiss. Her head is spinning, her body throbbing, and she just wants him to touch her. When he finally pulls away, he presses his forehead against hers and blows out a breath as he murmurs, "You're fuckin' killing me, baby."

Grinning, she kisses his nose and pulls away. It's crude and crass, but it's the best compliment she's ever been given by a man.

* * *

Puck's in over his fucking head and he knows it. Usually, he gets involved with the sluts that hang around the clubhouse. The pussy is free for the taking. He's never had to work as hard as he's working to get Rachel naked but he can't seem to give a fuck. She's sexy as hell and she has this innocence about her that, when coupled with her intense drive and determination, drives him crazy. She's seven years younger than he is and he knows she's been sheltered her whole life. She's clearly been treated like a princess and has wanted for nothing. That's in stark contrast to his own upbringing. His own father beat the shit out of him and his ma before he finally left and never came back. Then Ma ended up marrying Eddie and they were pulled into the MC. Sometimes (usually when he's staring at the bullet and knife wounds that mar his body), he wishes he'd never got involved with the club. He thinks about leaving because he wants a different life but he's not sure how to go about getting it. Now this shit with Rachel just makes him think about wanting to leave even more. Rachel's not the kind of girl that gets mixed up with a guy like him. She deserves one of those assholes in a polo shirt and a sweater vest with a trust fund, a BMW, and a house in the Hamptons. The thing is, he can tell that's not really what she wants. Yeah, she's probably been groomed to want that shit but he can tell that she's into him and he _definitely_ doesn't own a sweater vest. He's pretty sure that he's nothing more than Rachel's experiment with the dark side of life and he tells himself he's okay with that. It's not often that a guy like him even gets to spend time with a girl like her, let along touch her.

Puck's waiting for Rachel when her dance class is over on Friday. She bounds out of the building, a short black skirt and pink cardigan pulled over her leotard, and doesn't even bother to act timid as she approaches him, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her mouth against his boldly. He's so happy he kissed her the week before because now, she seems more than willing to be more open about their obvious attraction to one another. She kisses him hard, her fingers threading through his mohawk and tugging when he bites her lower lip.

He lets out a whistle when they part and then wraps his arm around her. "I take it you're in a good mood?"

Rachel giggles, bobbing her head. "Arturo said my form is outstanding. I really think I've improved since I've been taking this class. I can't wait until our final performance before graduation. I'm going to blow those bitches away."

Her face colors as she finishes speaking, forcing Puck to spit out a laugh. He nuzzles his nose against her neck, murmuring, "You're fucking crazy, you know that?" before pressing his lips against her neck.

"I know," Rachel breathes between laughs as his nibbling tickles her skin, "but I don't care. I am who I am."

"Damn straight you are, baby." Puck bobs his head toward his bike. "Wanna go for a ride?"

Rachel hesitates only for a second before she's practically dragging him across the street. She climbs on with gusto and he can't figure out who's more excited for the ride, him or her. When she wraps her arms around him and he feels her thighs against his, he's pretty sure he's the one that's more excited. (His dick thinks so, anyway.)

…

They end up down on a deserted pier. It's one of those old, rotting ones along the Hudson River that nobody uses anymore. He takes Rachel here because he knows that this area isn't frequented by any of the rival MCs or any of the gangs that buys from his club. He's sure they'll be relatively safe here and more importantly, they won't be interrupted.

Puck slides off the bike but stops Rachel before she can. Turning around, he slides his leg back over the seat and sits down so that he's facing her, their knees touching. The breeze from the ride has her hair blowing in every direction and he chuckles as he watches her fight it into submission and then whip it into a ponytail. Once she's settled, she looks first at him and then up at the night sky. He keeps his eyes on her long neck and the small swell of her breasts against her cardigan. He doesn't need any fucking stars to be captivated.

Rachel apparently feels his eyes on her because she finally lowers her head and meets his gaze. Even in the darkness, he can tell that she's blushing. Before she can speak, he leans forward and brushes his mouth against hers. She kisses him back with gusto, her mouth pushing insistently against his. It makes his head spin. He wants her _so _fucking much.

She scoots forward, not paying any attention to the fact that her short skirt has ridden up and her legs are on full display. Puck glances down at her before dropping his hands to stroke up her thighs. Rachel's mouth drops open and he hears his name escape her lips so softly that he almost thinks he imagined it. She scoots down the motorcycle seat and flings her thigh over his, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to pull him closer. He can feel her breasts rubbing against him and even through the several layers of their clothing, he knows her nipples are hard.

Puck resumes kissing her, softly at first. Their mouths move against one another as the wind blows across them. A siren in the distance forces them apart as Puck surveys the area, making sure they're still alone. Everything seems fine so he focuses on Rachel again. Her head is tilted toward back, her eyes on the night sky, when she says, "I was supposed to have a date tonight."

"Oh yeah?" Puck isn't sure he wants to hear about her dating anybody, even though he doesn't have any real claim on her (yet).

She looks at Puck. "With Finn. He's a guy I've liked for a while now."

"So why aren't you with him?"

Rachel smiles and grabs his hand. "Because in all the years I've known him, he's never, not _once_, made me feel like I feel when I'm around you. He's... he's very much a boy still."

Puck snorts. "And you're saying I'm not?"

Shaking her head, Rachel bites her lip and reaches out to grip his thigh. "You're definitely a man. You're intense, dark, and honestly, you scare me."

Puck glowers at her. "You know I'd never hurt you, right? No matter what shit I get involved with, I'll make sure you're safe."

"I know," Rachel admits. "I'd never be around you if I thought otherwise. I'll admit that your...uh..._friends..._they scare me quite a bit but you just don't give off the same vibe as them. Why is that, Noah? Are you not like them?"

Puck's afraid that Rachel thinks he's got a squeaky clean past. "I'm just like them, babe, and I've got the rap sheet and scars to prove it." He expects Rachel to pull back when he admits that he's got a criminal record but she doesn't. She cocks her head to the side instead, peering at him as though she's studying him. Her scrutiny makes him uncomfortable. He reaches out and squeezes her thigh, asking, "What?"

"I don't know." Rachel twines his fingers with hers. "I just know you're different, Noah. You're different from the people you associate with and you're different from any man I've ever met."

"And that's a good thing?" He smirks at her. She's so fucking cute when she's thinking as hard as she is at this moment.

"It's a great thing." Rachel scoots closer to him, throwing both her thighs over his and pushing forward until the crotch of her leotard is rubbing against the zipper of his jeans. Rachel lets out a moan and shifts her hips, her eyes locked on his face as she rubs herself against him.

Puck slides his hands down her sides and then brackets her hips, holding her against him as he moves her again. Their bodies rub against one another, creating a delicious friction that has then both panting within minutes. Suddenly, Rachel stops and looks around before whispering, "I want you to touch me, Noah."

He swallows, unable to find his voice. He can only nod and watch as she unbuttons the cardigan and pulls it off, leaving her in just her leotard. She drapes it over the handlebars of his bike and then turns back toward him, reaching for his hand. He lets her guide him, making sure she puts his hand exactly where she wants it.

Rachel grasps his fingers in hers before extending his index and middle fingers and then guiding his hand between her thighs. As soon as he touches her, she lets out a low moan and shifts her hips. His cock is so fucking hard already. Her combination of innocence and intense sexuality is making him nuts. He lets her rock her hips against his hand for a few seconds before he pushes the edge of her leotard aside and strokes his fingers up her slit. She's dripping wet and when his index finger teases her opening, she lets out a loud cry and keens his name. Puck grips her back and pulls her until she's straddling his thighs, pushing his fingers into her pussy as his mouth slams against hers. Rachel stiffens, moaning into his kiss. He pistons his fingers inside her rapidly, spurred on by the way she pants, grips the back of his head, and whispers, "Yes, yes, _yes," _into his ear. She clings to him as he works his fingers inside her. She's gripping his head so tightly that his scalp hurts but he doesn't care. He's twisting his fingers, stroking that exact spot that he knows will send her flying, and groaning her name when she stutters out his right before her pussy clenches around his fingers. When she comes, her mouth falls open and she goes totally quiet. He can feel the silent scream in her throat, feel the tremor ripping through her body. After a few seconds, she slumps against him and peppers the side of his face with little kisses.

He pulls back, pushing her bangs off her face so that he can see her eyes. They're glassy, her cheeks flushed. He leans in and kisses her before asking, "Feel better?"

"Much," Rachel sighs. She slides her hand down over the front of his jeans, squeezing his hard cock.

He groans, shaking his head. "Don't play with fire, baby. I wanna fuck you so bad. You touch me and I'm gonna lose it."

Rachel's eyes glint like he's issued her a challenge. She's quick to work the button and zipper on his jeans open and when she pulls his cock out, her eyes widening just long enough to make him laugh. Then she gently strokes her hand down his length before squeezing him at the base. Puck threads his fingers into her hair, whispering, "Shit, baby," right before he kisses her. She strokes him, her movements becoming bolder as the seconds pass. Their tongues mingle and while the kisses intensify, she never stops moving her hand. Puck can feel the heat roiling inside him and after a moment, he grabs her hand and holds it over the head of his cock. Her fingers tease the soft flesh while she leans in and bites his neck. "I want you to come, Noah," she coaxes him gently, "I've fantasized about making you come. I make myself come so hard just thinking about you."

Her words are all it takes. He grunts once before holding her hand tighter against him as he spurts into her palm. She shivers, her eyes glazed over with desire as the heat of his come warms her hand. He's totally out of breath but he feels kinda bad for making a mess of her hand so he reaches behind him and tugs a rag from the inside of his cut. He quickly wipes off her hand and tosses the rag to the ground before sliding her into his arms. They trade kisses softly, back and forth, and Puck can't help but wonder where this is all gonna go. This girl is amazing. This girl is sexy. This girl is totally fucking out of his league.

* * *

Rachel feels like she's floating. She can't stop thinking about Noah, no matter how hard she tries. It's like he's awakened this nymph inside her. She craves his touch, aches to feel the warmth of his body, misses the sound of his voice when they're not together. She yearns for the next time they're alone and hopes that soon, she can feel his body sliding into hers. She's pretty sure she's never wanted anything more (except for maybe a Tony award but she thinks that might be a toss-up once she finally comes with Noah inside her.)

She's moving to her next class, paying no attention, when she slams into the large wall that is Finn Hudson. He glances down at her, his face immediately going red. She knows that he's still mad at her for canceling their date and it makes her feel bad. "Hi, Finn," she says as she reaches down to snag the water bottle that fell from her hands upon impact.

"Hey, Rach." Finn shifts from one foot to the next. "I...uh... how are you?"

"Good." Rachel tucks her hair behind her ear. "I'm really great, actually. Just super busy."

Finn bobs his head. He looks so sweet and forgiving when he says, "I'm really sorry we didn't get to go out the other night."

Rachel nods. Even though she had a crush on him for what feels like forever, she doesn't want to say anything that might lead him on or give him the wrong impression. At one time, he was exactly the type of man she saw herself with. Before Noah, of course. Now, she can only imagine herself with a man that makes her blood pump and her body feel like it is truly on fire.

She places a hand on his forearm. "I'm sorry, too, Finn. I just don't think the timing is right." She glances away and then adds, "If you'll excuse me, I need to go."

She disappears into the crowd before Finn can say anything else. She hopes that's the last time they have to have such a conversation. She's not interested in him at all anymore.

* * *

Puck doesn't know what the fuck happened but a drop in the Bronx goes totally wrong. They're supposed to be dropping the package for the Bloods but then the Crips show up and it all goes to shit. He nearly gets hit in the crossfire and one of the guys, Karofsky, gets it right in the head. All the way back to the garage, Puck keeps thinking about Karofsky's old lady. She's going to fucking lose it when the police show up and tell her that he's in the hospital and he's probably gonna be fucking brain dead. It leaves him shaken up. It's not the first time he's been around violence. Hell, no. He's seen a bunch of guys go down over the years. It never gets easier, though, to watch his brothers fall for the club. When he gets to the clubhouse, they hold church so that Eddie can update everybody on the Karofsky situation. After that, Puck downs a bunch of Jack before numbly making his way to the bedroom he keeps at the clubhouse and then falling into bed.

Once he's awake again, Puck keeps one eye on the clock because he knows Rachel's taking a late class tonight and he can't wait to see her. After the fucking crazy day he's had, all he wants to do is get her in his arms. She makes him feel better. Something about her soothes his soul and quiets the demons inside him. He's pretty sure that if she was asleep by his side, he might actually sleep through the whole night without waking up in a cold sweat. He always has the same fucking dream, too. He's 22 again and he and his closest buddy, Matt, are making a run from Manhattan to Long Island. The MC had just established a relationship with one of the gangs over there and Eddie had elected to send the two youngest guys to make the first drop. Even with backup, Puck had an uneasy feeling going into the whole thing and it soon proved that his instincts were right. Bullets from a semi-automatic started flying and when it was all over, Matt lay in a pool of his own blood in the middle of a 7-11 parking lot, his lifeless eyes staring up at the sky. Puck wanted out of the club right then and in the five years since, those little moments where he feels like he needs to get the fuck away from the life (and death) have become more frequent. Now, with Rachel in his life, he craves a different life more than ever before.

Once it's nearly time for Rachel to be done, Puck leaves the clubhouse, climbs on his bike, and heads over to the dance studio. He's on edge the whole time, afraid he's being followed. By the cops or by one of the Bloods, he doesn't know. Hell, who's following him doesn't even really matter. He just feels like shit could go down if he isn't careful. When he parks in front of the garage, his instincts tell him to watch his back. He has Rachel to think about so he backs his bike into one of the empty bays and then locks it up before shoving his hands into his pockets and crossing the street.

Just as he steps up onto the curb, Rachel comes out of the studio. Her smile immediately lessens the tension that keeps his whole body tight. He kisses her hard, pressing her against the brick wall. When they part, he wipes his mouth and lets her loop her arm through his. "Where's your bike?"

Puck blinks at her, stalling for an answer. He doesn't want to tell her about his day. He wants to shield her from all of it – the guns, the club business, the death, the shit he's gone through. She doesn't need to know any of it. She's too innocent and pure to be damaged from what he's experienced. Swallowing, he shrugs, acting casual. "It's not running right so I'm gonna work on it tomorrow. I figured we'd take a cab...maybe go back to my place?"

He sees Rachel swallow and for a second, he's afraid she's going to say no, so he's incredibly relieved when she says, "I'd like that, Noah. I'd love to see where you live."

Puck steps to the curb and flags a cab down. As he helps Rachel inside, he says, "It ain't much, really. It's a shitty little dump but home is home, ya know? I just figured we'd maybe order in, hang out for a while?"

"That sounds great."

Puck slips his arm across Rachel's shoulders as he settles into the seat. He rattles off his address to the cabby while Rachel shifts, relaxing against him. Her hand seeks his and she threads their fingers together. When she speaks, she lowers her head so that the cabbie can't hear her. "I can't wait to be totally alone with you."

"Oh, yeah?" Puck arches his brow. "You thinking of taking advantage of me?"

She gives him the smallest, slyest of smiles. "Definitely."

Puck lets out a laugh and then kisses her forehead. He can't wait to be alone with her, either.

…

As it turns out, the neighborhood where Noah lives isn't much better than where he works. Rachel is apprehensive as she climbs from the back of the cab, carefully surveying the area. It's a small, narrow street in the meat packing district. It's dark, there aren't a lot of street lights, and the general feeling is one of being watched. She quickly reattaches her hand to Noah's after he pays the cab and lets him lead her through a door and up two flights of stairs. The building is better looking on the inside than the outside, which gives her hope for his apartment.

She stands in the hall, her eyes on his cut as he unlocks the door. She reads the club patch over and over again; it prompts a million questions inside her head. Again, her instincts tell her she needs to run away, that she should never allow herself to be involved with a dangerous man like Noah. But he flashes her a big grin as he unlocks the door and her tension eases. She's not afraid of him. His lifestyle is completely foreign to her, yes. She's spent a lot of time Googling motorcycle clubs in the last few weeks so she's fairly versed in the types of illegal activities that some of them are involved in. She wants to ask Noah if what she's read about his club's particular business is true because she's pretty sure that he's part of what's considered an "outlaw" club. She feels like, if she sticks around, she'll be exposed to more and more of the way he and his friends live. She is both horrified and intrigued by such a thought.

Noah locks the door behind her and then backs her against it. He pushes her hair away from her face and peers down at her, a small smile gracing his lips as he says, "Well, here it is. Like I said, it ain't much."

Rachel peers around him and into the tiny space. It's a studio apartment, about twice the size of her dorm room but not even the size of her living room back home. There's a tiny kitchenette off to one side and a table with two chairs that serves as the dining room. He has a sofa sitting against one wall and a huge TV, one of the biggest she's ever seen, hanging on the opposite wall. The bed, which is far too large for such a small apartment, is shoved into one corner. It's piled high with thick blankets and her face turns pink when she thinks about the fact that the bed is where she most wants to be right then.

Rachel steps around Noah and walks through the apartment. He has several guitars leaning against the wall, which surprises her. She stops, bends over, strums her fingers over the strings before glancing quizzically over her shoulder at him.

"What?"

"I didn't know you liked music."

Noah walks up beside her and places his hand on the small of her back. "I fucking love music. It was the way I escaped the screaming and crying back when my old man was beating the piss outta my ma every night. Well," he admits, "once when I got older, I broke a guitar over his fucking head." He glances away, adding, "He left for good not long after that."

Rachel's shocked by his story. He's told her enough that she knows he's loyal to his step-dad and to the club. He loves his mother and he looks out for his friends. She can't imagine what it was like to have had abusive parents, especially as a young child. She was doted upon by her fathers; she can't fathom anything else. The thought of him as a scared child, cowering away from an abusive father, angers her. She glances down at one of his guitars before asking, "Are you any good?"

Noah scoffs at her, which makes her giggle. She watches him lean over, grab his acoustic guitar, then look at her pointedly. "Am I any good? Baby, I'm fucking great. Sit down." He digs out a pick and then points toward the sofa. Rachel's all grins as she sits down, primly crossing her legs at the ankles while she looks at him expectantly. She had no idea he was a musician. The thought _thrills_ her.

Rachel can tell he's nervous when he starts to play but within seconds, the sound that comes from the guitar is smooth and melodic. She can't place the song but it has a catchy refrain. His playing is positively lovely and she finds that she's unable to look away from his long, skilled fingers as they move over the strings. She's heard professional musicians play with less skill than this enigmatic man that's standing in front of her.

When the last note fades, she watches him turn away to put the guitar down. She's so proud of him right now. "That was gorgeous, Noah! I don't think I recognized the song, though. What was it?"

Noah hesitates as he puts his pick back where it belongs. When he turns to face her, he rubs his open palms across his jeans and looks away. "I...uh... wrote it. It even has lyrics and shit."

"Really?" Rachel vaults off the couch and winds her arms around his neck. "Oh, Noah, that's wonderful! I didn't know you were so talented! I bet you can sing, too!" She pulls back and gazes at his face. "Can you sing?"

He nods, reaching back to pinch her on the ass. "But don't even _think _about asking me to do that right now. I'm fucking starving and you're pushing your luck as it is."

Rachel laughs before bouncing up on her toes to kiss his cheek. "I had no idea that you were so musically inclined. I can't believe you've never explored it."

Noah clears his throat before disappearing into the kitchenette. When he comes back, he's got a stack of menus in his hand and it's obvious to her that their discussion about his musical talent is done. That's okay, though, she decides, because now she has something to really prod him about. Someone as talented as he is needs to be exploring his options. It's ridiculous to ignore it.

She takes the menus from him and then drops down onto his sofa, gingerly flipping through them. She quickly settles on her order (there are rarely very good vegan choices at the cheaper, more questionable Chinese restaurants) and tries to relax while Noah calls it in. Her eyes keep shifting back to the bed. How does she approach the subject? Does she let it happen naturally? Does she just blurt out the truth, that she wants to have sex with him and that if it doesn't happen very soon, she's going to explode? She's never really been one to make the first move but tonight, she thinks, just might be the night she does. She _has _to have him.

Rachel hears Noah disconnect the call, followed by the sound of the fridge opening. When he walks into the room, he hands her a bottle of beer before sitting down next to her. She eyes the bottle before glancing up at him. She's not a beer drinker. She's had one once or twice over the years but she much prefers fruity drinks, preferably ones that come with tiny little umbrellas and chunks of fresh pineapple. Still, she feels like she's been living on the edge since the moment she met Noah so she decides to go for it. Twisting off the cap, she takes a swig from the bottle. The look on her face must be amusing because Noah barks out a laugh.

"Not a beer drinker, huh, baby? If you want something else, you can have it. Just ask."

Rachel's taste buds feel like they're revolting. It's not quite as bad as she remembers but the appeal of beer still seems foreign to her. Nevertheless, she's not afraid to step outside her comfort zone. She shakes her head and bats away his hand as he tries to reach for the bottle. "No, no, it's fine. I'm not normally a beer drinker but it's totally fine."

He's incredulous. "You sure? I've got bottled water. Oh, and some of that fruit punch shit."

"Noah," she shakes her head, "that fruit punch is highly processed, loaded with high fructose corn syrup and God only knows what else. Did you know that it contains no actual fruit extracts? Every sip is just a mouth full of unnatural chemicals."

He stares at her like she's crazy before leaning in to kiss her on the nose. "Fruit punch is the least of my problems, baby. It may kill me but at least it'll do it slowly."

"Like the cigarettes," she adds.

Noah reaches into his pocket and shows her his pack of Marlboros. It's still unopened. "I've had this pack since yesterday and I haven't smoked a single one. I'm fucking _feignin' _but I'm trying to quit...you know...because I don't want you getting second hand lung cancer or anything."

Rachel beams at him. She takes another drink from her beer bottle, makes another disgusted face, and then crawls into his lap. "Have I told you, Noah Puckerman, that I think you're wonderful?"

Noah snorts, a disbelieving look on his face. His gaze travels downward before settling on her throat. Rachel's breathing catches when he leans in and gently drags his lips across her skin, her body immediately thrums with desire. When he flicks open the buttons of her shirt, she arches her back toward him and then helps him undo the rest of the buttons. She watches his face as he removes the beer bottle from her hand and then pushes her onto the couch. He stands up, looming over her. His eyes settle on the outline of her nipples through the sheer lace of her bra; the heat of his gaze turns the thrumming inside her to a throb.

"Noah."

All she says is his name but it seems to break the spell because then he drops to his knees in front of her. She lets him unzip and unbutton her shorts and then lifts her hips so he can easily slide them, plus her panties, down her legs. She's not shy at all when he leans back on his haunches and gazes at her body. It's the first time he's seen her in the full light like this and it's titillating.

He puts a hand on her thigh before sliding around and settling on her hip to drag her body further down the couch. Her legs open wider as she instinctively arches toward him. Noah blows out a heavy breath and then reaches down, parting her with his thumbs.

"Your pussy is so fucking pretty, baby, just like the rest of you."

Fire shoots through her. Her hips come up off the couch, her body reaching toward his. "Noah," she begs, "put your mouth on me."

He practically leers at her before licking his lips. When he dips his head down, she threads her fingers through his mohawk, her eyes fluttering closed.

The first contact his tongue makes with her body nearly sends her flying. He flicks just the tip of it against her clit before dragging it down her slit, rimming the entrance to her pussy. When he cups her ass and then tilts her toward him, she doesn't expect him to drag his tongue along her rear opening but that's exactly what he does. Rachel cries out, moans his name, and pushes her pussy against his face.

"Make me come, Noah," she begs. "Please, baby, make me come."

He happily complies. His mouth works her over, flicking, sucking, and dipping inside her again and again. She closes her eyes as her hips come up off the couch again and again. When he sinks his tongue inside her and holds onto her hips, she rocks herself against him, riding his face. The orgasm sneaks up so fast that she has no warning. She's suddenly crying out, bursts of the brightest stars behind her eyelids. She grips his head, holding him in place as she quakes.

The sound of a knock on the door jolts her out of her daze and she reluctantly lets go of Noah's head. He smirks as he stands up, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth before he heads for the door. He steps into the hallway to pay for their food, leaving her to get redressed in private. When he comes back in, he's carrying a huge bag, laden with food.

"Hope you're hungry."

She grins at him. "Now I'm starved, thank you very much."

He drops the bags on the table before leaning over to kiss her. "Glad I could help, baby."

While he disappears into the kitchen again, she excuses herself to wash her hands. Everything feels so right, so...domestic. She could get used to this.

…

Three hours later, she's so drunk that she can barely spell her name. As it turns out, once she drinks one beer, the rest are a lot easier to get down. She has a second bottle before insisting that Noah let her perform the song she sang when she won her third grade talent show ("Somewhere Over the Rainbow"). After her third beer, she sings Barbra Streisand's "Don't Rain on My Parade" so loudly that the neighbor downstairs knocks on the floor with his broom. She makes Noah dance with her and they move around the room, singing along with the radio and laughing. He keeps his arms around her so that she doesn't fall into the wall or stumble and land on her face. It's sweet, plus she loves having him so close.

Her problem with alcohol, though, is that it makes her sleepy. Once that third beer really starts to kick in, her head droops against his shoulder. All thoughts of finally having sex with him are fleeting because before she can even stop herself, she falls asleep.

…

When Rachel pops her eyes open the next morning, she's momentarily confused. It doesn't take long for the evening to come rushing back to her. She remembers laughing over dinner. She remembers all the beer she drank (which was a lot, considering she doesn't even _like_ beer.) And then she recalls the feeling of Noah's mouth moving between her legs. Warmth flashes through her, pooling so low and deep that she knows there is only one way to put the fire out and frankly, it's time.

She sits up, her eyes on Noah. He's asleep on his stomach, still wearing his jeans but no shirt. She can see the tattoos on his back. The scars that mar his smooth skin aren't hard to miss. Even though they've obviously faded with age, it's evident that at one time, they were swollen, angry, and caused Noah a lot of pain. That thought adds a different kind of ache to the one she's already feeling where he is concerned.

Rachel pulls her shirt off and then unhooks her bra. She lets it slide off her body before lifting her hips and pushing her shorts and panties down. She's already wet, taking a moment to stroke her index finger down her slit. She teases the entrance of her pussy and then moans because it just makes her want Noah's body buried inside hers. She _needs _him.

When she flings her leg over him to straddle his hips, she realizes that she can hardly breathe from excitement. Leaning forward until her breasts are pressed against his back, she whispers his name. Getting no response at first, she does it again, all while pressing herself more fully against him because she loves the way they feel together – skin on skin. This finally makes him stir and when he lifts his head, he glances groggily over his shoulder. She uses this opportunity to kiss him.

"Morning, baby," he grouses.

Rachel pushes herself upright and sees his eyes flash with recognition when he realizes that she's naked. He quickly flips over, gripping her hips. The way his eyes roam over her makes her cheeks (and every other part of her body) burn with need. She waits for him to speak but he never does. He reaches out, instead, and cups her breast. His thumb glides over her nipple until it comes to a taut point before he focuses on the other one. His movements are so slow and languid that it's making her dizzy. How can he be so relaxed when she's about to incinerate?

Shifting her hips, she tries to assuage the need that's causing her thighs to tremble. She finally falls forward, sighing when Noah's arms come around her. He strokes her back, his fingers tangling in the ends of her hair. "Nice way to wake up," he whispers in a gruff voice that only helps to further make her breathless.

"I should be in class right now," she admits. Her eyes are on a scar that slashes across his shoulder. She fingers it gently before dipping her head to press her lips along it. When he sucks in a breath, she smiles against his skin.

Noah glances over at the clock. "But you're not going, huh?"

Rachel shakes her head as she slides her hand between them. Noah is hard; she can clearly feel him beneath his clothes. If he's not inside her in the next two minutes, she's going to lose her mind. They stare at one another, their foreheads touching, as she unzips his jeans. She finally breaks eye contact so that she can help him strip off his pants. She wants time to study his fully naked body in the daylight. There is no part of him that isn't spectacular. She doesn't know which part she wants to put her mouth on first. All she knows is that she needs to taste and feel all of him.

Climbing down his body, she presses a kiss to the underside of his cock. He growls and tries to reach for her but Rachel shakes her head, grinning wickedly as she grips him at the base and then strokes upward. He swears, moans, and reaches out to cup her cheek. Rachel locks eyes with him and their breathing seems to stop – the silence that hangs between them is laden with this insane heat that's been burning between them since the beginning. When she bends her head down and takes him into her mouth, she's rewarded with the sound of her name leaving his lips. She _loves _the sound of that. Her tongue swirls over him, the strokes against his hardness feather-light. Noah goes quiet, other than breathing out through his nose, as she opens her throat and sucks him down into her mouth. When she swallows around him, his head pops up from the bed and he gazes at her with heavy lids before his head crashes back into the pillow. When she does it again, Noah pushes himself up on his forearms and shakes his head.

"You're really fucking sexy," he murmurs, "and that mouth of yours is gonna fuck _everything _up if you keep going. C'mere." His hand wraps around her wrist and he tugs her toward him until she's straddling his chest. He locks eyes with her as he reaches into the bedside table, pulling out a Trojan and then shoving the small foil packet into her hand. They've both been waiting for this for what feels like ages. Rachel can hardly believe that they've _finally _made it here. She catches her lip between her teeth as she presses her body against his. She can feel the hairs on his torso rubbing against her clit as she rocks her hips back and forth. She's so aroused now that she's dripping; her thighs and Noah's chest are already shiny with her wetness. As she moves back and forth, she sees his eyes drop to the apex of her thighs. Her breath stutters in her throat as he slips his fingers between her thighs and then sinks his index finger into her pussy, his gaze catching and holding hers as he pumps inside her. She wants to tell him that she needs him right this very second but her mouth won't work. He's twisting his finger, rubbing deeply inside her, caressing her clit with his thumb. She's on fire. She doesn't want to come until he has his beautiful cock buried in her to the root but she can't help it. She throws her head back, lifting her hips off his torso as the orgasm tears through her. "Noah," she keens. She jerks her hips, taking his finger deeper, and grinds herself down on his hand as her pussy continues to throb. "You make me so crazy."

Noah nods, grabbing her hand and guiding it behind her until she makes contact with his cock again. She moans as she grips him, letting him slide between her circled palm. He's feels so good, so thick, that it makes her shudder. She can barely concentrate on stroking him because he's still rubbing his thumb across her clit. She's still sensitive from coming but she _needs_ him to keep touching her. They making each other crazy in the best possible way but she can't handle it anymore. Apparently, Noah can't either because seconds later, he jerks his fingers away from her body, grips her hips, and rolls them. He grabs the condom from where she'd let it fall and quickly rips the foil open. She watches with a hooded gaze as he slides it down over his length. "I need to be inside you, like, fucking _yesterday._" He meets her eyes for a second before lunging forward. Their mouths mash together at the same time that he forces her thighs wide. She hardly has any time to think before he's pushing into her. Rachel lets out a low, begging growl as her head falls back. He pushes in...and in... and in... She feels him butt up against her cervix. She's never been so full. Her sexual partners have been limited, of course, but _nothing _compares to this man and the way he feels inside her body.

Noah kisses her once more before pushing himself up on his knees. He grips her thigh tightly, flings her calf over his shoulder, and presses her other leg open wider. He whips his hips quickly, pumping his cock into her so deeply and so fast, over and over again, that Rachel forgets to think for once. Every part of her body is burning. She feels like she's made up of thousands of individual points of light and they're all about to explode into one huge supernova. She hears herself crying out his name, hears him grunt hers in return. Her fingers find his thigh and she digs in, desperate to hold onto him. He relentlessly thrusts into her, driving higher and higher toward that bright pinnacle.

"Baby," he moans, "you're so…_fuck..._baby..."

Rachel opens her eyes and sees Noah's hazel eyes burning into hers. She grapples for his shoulders as he lets go of her legs, desperate to feel more of his body against hers. She tightens her thighs around his waist and pulls him down until they're chest to chest, mouth to mouth. Their tongues meet as he pounds into her and when he pushes his hips toward hers in _just _the right way, the flaring, clawing flames inside her ignite. Her body grips his as she flies over the cliff, holding his face to her neck as she feels him pulsing inside her. She's never in her life felt incredible as she does right then and, even through her orgasmic haze, it scares her.

They're quiet for the longest time. Noah breathes against her collarbone, dropping little kisses here and there. She finds herself captivated by the extremes of his personality. He obviously leads a rough, dangerous life, but when he's with her, he's nothing but sweet, caring, and devoted to her and her pleasure. It's hard to reconcile those two very different parts of him. She knows, though, that those things are what draw him to her. It's why she wants to be around him. It's why she's falling for him.

After a few minutes, he pulls out of her body, throws the condom away, and then hauls her against him. She lets him sleep for a half hour before she wakes him up by taking him into her mouth and sucking him until he's fully hard again. Now that she's finally had him, she's not going to be able to get enough. They've been on this inevitable course for a while and now that they're here, there's no way in hell that she could possibly want anything else.

* * *

Puck doesn't get to the bike shop until well after 1pm. The guys have been blowing up his phone all morning but obviously, he was busy. He can't keep the smile off his face as he thinks about Rachel. He ended up fucking her three times and it nearly killed him to finally let her put her clothes on and head back to campus.

When he walks into the back room of the shop, Eddie and some of the other guys are looking somber. They all glance at Puck in a way that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. "What?" he asks.

"Karofsky died this morning."

_Fuck. _Puck wasn't that close to Karofsky because the guy kept to himself, but he'd been in the MC for years. He'd been loyal and willing to do whatever it took to make the club money. A feeling of rage sneaks up on Puck, practically socking him in the gut. He balls his fist, turns, and slams it into the wall. The drywall caves beneath the force, leaving an indention the size of his fist. He stands that way for a second, his breathing heavy. It fucking _sucks _that another one of his brothers has died.

Eddie studies the look on Puck's face before he gets out of his chair and throws his arm across Puck's shoulder. "C'mon, son, we need to talk."

Puck lets Eddie lead him back out into the sunlight. They walk down about a half a block, to where there is nothing but abandoned buildings. Eddie pulls out a cigarette and lights up before saying, "We're striking back tonight. Those fucking Crips gotta know that they can't mess with us. We've planned it all out, Azimio's leading. You in?"

He's always in. Eddie _knows _he's always in so Puck's a little confused as to why he's asking. "You gotta ask?"

Eddie shrugs as he flicks the ash off the end of his cigarette. "I dunno, son, you've seemed out of it lately. And what was that back there?" Eddie bobs his head back toward the shop. "I know you're seeing that little dancer chick more and more and..." He takes a drag off his cigarette. "I told your Ma that I think that girl is changing you. It feels like you're losing your edge."

"Fuck that," Puck grits out, "I'm not losing my fucking edge."

"But?" Eddie asks. "Because you've been off for a while now. You just seem like you're going through the motions, like your heart's not in it anymore. This fucking MC is your family, man. Why you trying to fuck that up?"

Puck exhales through his nose as he tries to figure out what the hell he's supposed to say. People have left the MC before, yeah. It's not an easy process and if it goes bad, someone can end up dead. Even still, he can't help but admit, "I think I…want out."

Eddie swears under his breath before he takes another drag off his cigarette. "That's what your ma thought. She thinks you're done, but I gotta ask, kid, if you go, where the hell you gonna go? This shit is all you know. You think you'd be happy playing house with the rich little college bitch?"

"She's not a bitch." Puck knows Eddie doesn't mean anything by it. Hell, he calls women bitches all the time. He just can't stand anybody saying anything at all about Rachel. "She's...she's fucking different, man. She sees all this potential inside me that I guess I didn't even realize was there. She makes me wanna be better...different."

"So you're leaving?"

Puck scrubs his hand over his mohawk. "I don't know what the fuck I'm doing yet. She and I haven't even talked about all this shit. I just know how I feel."

"You know that if you leave, it's gonna be bad, right? Everybody thinks you're eventually gonna take over and there's gonna be a lot of pissed off guys if you walk."

"I know." Puck stares down at the long line of bikes that are parked out in front of the garage. "It's a chance I'm willing to take."

…

Puck rides around for an hour before finally stopping in front of Rachel's dorm. A bunch of the co-eds give him a look he's familiar with: wariness and lust. A few of them even slow down, obviously trying to get his attention, but he doesn't take the bait. There's only one co-ed he wants to see.

He ends up waiting for nearly two hours. While he's sitting there, he watches a homeless guy take a leak on the wall and then two chicks nearly get into a fistfight. Heavy, gray storm clouds start rolling in from the west, making him worry that it's going to start pouring down rain before he ever even finds Rachel. When he finally sees her coming, she's walking down the sidewalk with a tall, goofy looking motherfucker. The guy is staring down at her like she hung the stars in the sky. It makes Puck want to simultaneously throw up and punch the asshole in the teeth. He feels possessive as fuck when it comes to Rachel. She's _his _girl, dammit, and that means that every other dick on the planet needs to stay the hell away. When Rachel sees him, she slows down. The goofy asshole says something to her but Rachel shakes her head. The guy shrugs, then casts Puck a pissy glare before he tromps away.

He's still glaring at the back of the guy's head when Rachel walks up to him. "Who's that?"

"That's Finn."

Puck swallows. "Ahh, yeah, the guy that wants to fuck you. Did he ask you out again?"

Rachel tucks her hair behind her ear. "He did, and I told him no. I've told him before that I don't think we'll work out but he's rather persistent. Today, I explained to him that I was invo— that I was seeing— that there was someone else."

Her admission makes Puck feel better, even if she does stumble over her words. Hell, he doesn't know how to define them either. He glances around campus, watches as a bunch of people rush by, and then slides his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Uh...can we maybe go somewhere and talk?"

Rachel stares at him apprehensively before her face totally turns crimson, her eyes flashing with anger. "Is this the part where you thank me for the sex and then tell me that you can't see me anymore? Because I swear, Noah, I have _not _been clingy or demanding or anything!" She paces away from him, shaking her head. "God, I'm so _stupid. _I should have known this was coming."

Puck wants to laugh. Reaching out, he snags her around the waist and hauls her to him. After he kisses her until she's breathless, he orders, "Will you just get on the fucking bike already? I wanna go for a ride."

"I refuse to get on this bike until you either confirm or deny that you're about to dump me."

"Jesus, woman, just get on the goddamn bike. I wanna take you out of the city, then maybe drive for an hour or two before I pull over, kiss you until we're both so fucking turned on that we can't see straight, and then find a nice, quiet place to fuck you. Okay?" Rachel just stares at him. Puck heaves a sigh and adds, "And, you know, talk and stuff. Get on the bike? Please?"

"Can I go up to my room and change quickly?" Rachel's voice is much lower now, her features softer as she lets go of the anger.

"Yeah, sure."

He watches her walk into her building and then leans against his bike, pulling his phone from his pocket to check his texts. There's nothing pressing that he needs to do for the MC right now, thank God. After shoving his phone back into his pocket, he takes off his cut and folds it up before sliding it into one of the saddlebags. He doesn't want to bring attention to himself when he's heading out of the city with Rachel. He's not about to put her in any danger.

When she comes back down, she's changed into a pair of jeans. She has a light jacket on and a duffel bag thrown over her shoulder. He helps her climb onto the bike and then stows her bag where it won't blow away. Before he gets on the bike, he cups her chin and then kisses her. His lips barely brush over hers but when he pulls away, her eyes are closed, her face serene. He smirks at her before shoving his helmet down over her head, throwing his leg over the seat, and starting the bike. Seconds later, they're pulling out into traffic.

It takes a while to get out of the city. Rachel hugs herself to him tightly. Every once in a while, he feels her press her lips against his shoulder or his back, leaving tiny little kisses. It makes his heart clench. She makes him want things he's never wanted before. He's never really been into relationships because they're too much fucking work and somebody always ends up hurt. But Rachel... _fuck_. Rachel makes him want all that shit.

They drive up I-87 for nearly two hours. They head toward some low-hanging, dark clouds, heavily laden with rain. Puck knows it's only a matter of time before the skies open up, soaking him and Rachel completely. He'd pull over to find some shelter except he has no idea where the fuck they're going. He honestly doesn't care. He just loves being on his bike and having his girl with him is an added bonus.

Rachel eventually taps him on the shoulder and yells that she has to pee just as the rain starts coming down. He nods and keeps his eye out for a rest stop. When they finally find one ten miles up, she vaults off the bike and flings his helmet at him before dashing inside the building.

He pulls the bike beneath the thick overhang of a tree, then pulls a small blanket from one of the saddlebags before running over to the vending machine to grab them some drinks. When Rachel comes back out, he hands her a bottle of water and pops open his Coke can. Her jacket and shirt are wet, plastered to her skin. She stares at it with a disgusted look on her face before glancing up at him.

"Here." Puck shoves the blanket toward her, which she gratefully takes. She drapes it around her shoulders and then Puck wraps his arm around her. They're still getting a little bit wet as rain drips down from the leaves but at least they aren't unprotected in the torrential downpour.

"Where are we?"

Puck's gaze shifts left, then right. "No fucking idea. Somewhere off I-87. I really just kinda drove. I needed out of the city. I usually have to get the hell outta there to think. I can't think with all those people around."

Rachel sips from her bottle as she studies his face. Her scrutiny makes him uncomfortable. It's like she can read his mind without him saying a word. When she puts her hand against his jaw and then pushes up on her toes in order to kiss him, he winds his arm around her waist and nuzzles his nose into her hair.

"Are you ready to tell me why you wanted to go for a drive? Why you wanted to talk?"

This isn't really the most ideal place to have a serious conversation. They're at an interstate rest stop in the middle of a downpour, but at least there aren't very many people around. Puck swallows, shaking his head. "I...uh... I don't know where to start, really."

Rachel dips her head, chewing on her lower lip. "Okay, well...why don't you start with why you seem so agitated right now and then work your way backward?"

He thinks it's cute that she's trying to be so helpful. For the hundredth time, he questions why this girl wants to be around a fuck-up lowlife like him. Still, she stares at him with such hopeful expectation that he finally gives in. He tugs the blanket from her shoulders and then spreads it on the ground before sitting down and pulling Rachel down with him. She scoots in between his legs, pressing her head against his chest, and then grabs his arms, moving them until she's wrapped herself up in him. "Okay," she sighs. "Talk."

Puck stares out at the rain. It's bouncing off the sidewalk and plinking against the roofs of the few cars and semis that are sitting in the lot. After a moment, he lets out a sigh and leans his head against the tree trunk. "One of my buddies died this morning."

He hears Rachel gasp. Wanting to reassure her, he squeezes his arms around her gently and then says. "We did a drop yesterday and the shit went bad. He took a bullet to the fucking head and died from his injuries this morning."

"Oh, Noah, I'm sorry." Her fingers stroke across the back of his hand.

"He's not the first guy in the MC to die, but he's the first one in a really fucking long time."

"There have been others?"

Puck squeezes his eyes shut. "Five years ago, my best friend in the entire fucking world, Matt Rutherford, got shot out on Long Island. He bled out in a 7-11 parking lot."

"Why was he shot?"

Puck's chest tightens. See, this is where the shit gets deep. He's been really careful not to tell Rachel about the business the MC is in because he's pretty sure that it's the exact kind of information that will make her run away from him as fast as he can. He wants to tell her, though. Part of him knows he _has _to if he wants to figure out what the hell he's supposed to do with his life. "Baby, I'm gonna tell you some shit that you're probably not gonna like. Just..._fuck_...just listen to me before you say anything, okay?"

Rachel bobs her head, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

"Our MC runs drugs for some of the gangs. We don't deal or grow or anything. We just, kinda, mule the shit around from point A to point B. It makes us a shitload of money but it also puts us in the cross hairs of every fucking gang in town, especially the Crips, because we have a relationship with the Bloods. The Crips killed my buddy, Matt, and they killed Karofsky. They also shot me a few years ago."

He feels Rachel tense in his arms so he pauses, bending his head to press his lips against her neck. They sit that way for a few quiet seconds with him simply absorbing her warmth and scent. It makes him feel stronger. When he's ready to continue, he clears his throat and says, "I joined the MC when I was 15. My step-dad's the president so it was just kinda natural. It's the only life I've ever known. I went to jail when I was 20 and spent 18 months locked up because I got caught with a kilo of coke on me."

Rachel shifts again, scooting forward. When she pushes Puck's arms away, his stomach drops. This is when she's going to turn around and demand he take her home. Or demand he stay far away from her and instead, call a taxi. Or worse, the cops.

She sits still for a second, her back to him. He sees her take a deep breath before she turns around and meets his eyes. "I know you're into illegal activities, Noah. I've googled motorcycle clubs, including _yours. _I know what you guys do. I won't pretend that hearing you admit to it isn't alarming, but it's not a complete surprise."

Puck just stares at her, unsure of where she's going.

Rachel fidgets with the blanket, then pulls her knees up and tucks them against her chest. She wraps her arms around her legs, staring down at her shoelaces. "Every single time we're together, I know I need to stop seeing you. Your lifestyle and your associates terrify me, Noah. I put myself in danger every single time I get within ten feet of you."

Puck can only swallow and nod, too uneasy to say anything.

"But at the same time, I feel like there's more to you. You're a talented musician, Noah! That's a true gift and one you haven't even begun to explore because you're so caught up in... things you shouldn't be involved in at all."

She looks up at him sadly. Puck reaches for her hand, relieved when she doesn't pull away. "That's why I brought you out here, baby. I wanted to talk to you about everything and then, I dunno, I guess I wanted to tell you that I'm thinking about leaving the MC." He looks away, his stomach feeling like a heavy lump when he says, "I wanna be with you, Rach. I mean, _really _fucking be with you. But you deserve a good man and I'm definitely not that guy."

Rachel squeezes his fingers so hard that it forces him to look at her. "But you can be, Noah. You are, deep inside. You just have to let the good guy come out. I believe everybody's entitled to a second, or even a third or fourth chance, but you have to want to take it and be brave enough _to _take it."

"Even if it means leaving the only life I've ever really known?"

A smile erases the worry lines from Rachel's face. "I'm graduating college very soon, Noah. I'm about to start an exciting new life, the life I've worked my ass off for. It's totally different from college and completely unknown. There are so many variables that I have yet to encounter and therefore, I can't even factor those in. But you know what? I'm excited to start anew, and you should be, too! There's so much promise in a fresh start."

Puck goes silent for a long time. He's thinking about what she's said. It all makes so much sense. "I don't deserve you, Rach. I've never done one fucking thing in my life good enough to be worthy of you."

Rachel shakes her head, waving off his statement. "I care about you, Noah. I know this whole thing between us is still very new but... I want to see where it goes." She smiles, even as Puck sees her shudder. "It thrills me and scares me but I want to see if what's between us is what I think it is."

He's so relieved that he feels like he can finally breathe again. He wants to see where this can go, too. He's never wanted anyone like he wants her and he sure as hell doesn't want to lose her. The thought of getting to keep her in his life is enough to propel him to do _anything_. If leaving the MC means he can have her for good, he'll give that shit up. In a fucking heartbeat. His voice cracks slightly when he says, "Me, too, baby."

Rachel seems pleased, letting out a happy little hum before turning her attention away from him. "Can we go now, Noah? I'm soaking wet and need to dry off somewhere."

Puck's happy to get on the road again. He stands up, offers her his hand and helps her up, then packs everything back up in the compartments on his bike. Before he helps her get on, he grips the back of her head and kisses her roughly. She lets out a startled peep against his mouth before he feels her melt into his arms. The kiss quickly turns heated; it takes everything in him to stop. She's fucking intoxicating. When he finally pulls away, he murmurs, "Thanks, baby," before hopping onto the bike.

...

Rachel wraps her arms around him again and then they take off. While they ride, she's deep in thought. A huge part of her knows that she is absolutely in over her head with this man. He's dangerous, his lifestyle is harmful, and he could be taken away from her, either by the police or by a bullet, at any given time. But he wants to leave that life and in her heart of hearts, she knows that he can do it. While she knows that a life with someone simple, someone living an uncomplicated existence (like Finn) would be more suited to her, she also knows that she'll never find the passion that she shares with Noah. And that passion is magical. She's never experienced anything like it. It's the kind of thing she's read about in hundreds of books but she wasn't sure it actually existed until she met Noah. She can't figure out what it is about the two of them, either, but when they're together, raw desire takes over. At first, she thought it was just incredible sexual chemistry. Now she knows it's much more. Now she wants everything he can give her and she thinks he wants to give all of it to her. That thought thrills her.

They ride out of the storm just as Noah comes to an exit with several of those cheap motels geared to weary interstate travelers. He quickly exits the road and then pulls into the parking lot of one, telling Rachel to sit tight as he dashes inside.

Minutes later, they're walking along the second floor of the motel, looking for room 228. Rachel's a few feet in front of him when she stops, pointing toward the numbers on the door. Noah shoves the keycard at her so that she can let them inside. She's used to much nicer hotels than this. In fact, she's not sure she's ever stayed in one that has outside entrances like this one does. She has no idea what to expect on the other side of the door but when she opens it, she's pleasantly surprised.

The room isn't much. There's a table with two ugly chairs, a big bed, and a TV. The bathroom is at the back of the room and one of those vanities with the huge mirrors lines the wall. The draperies are old and the air conditioner is rattling loudly. Still, Noah looks pleased and the huge bed looks more than comfortable. Deciding that the room is acceptable, she simply drops her bag on the bed, flashes Noah a smile, and strips her shirt off. He immediately makes a move toward her but she shakes her head as she unhooks her bra. "Sit, Puckerman," she orders. She lets her bra fall away and then stands in front of him. She watches him stare at her breasts before giggling and reaching into her bag to pull out a tank top. After she pulls it over her head, she shimmies out of her wet jeans, slides her panties down her thighs, and then drapes them over the chair. When she turns around again, the look on Noah's face sends heat zipping through her limbs. She grins at him as she pulls another pair of panties from her bag, laughing when he protests as she puts them on.

Once she's comfortable, she crawls onto the bed, pushing him backward. She climbs onto his chest, straddling him. She's totally silent as she lets the heat from his body seep into her cold, wet extremities. He places his large palms on her thighs and she jumps. Goosebumps pop up on her legs from the contrast of his hot hands against her chilly legs. He begins so stroke her thighs slowly, up and down. She's supposed to be lecturing him about his future right now. She still has a lot of unanswered questions and fears that can't easily be assuaged. But like always, the moment they're alone, all she can do is focus on the way he looks at her and the gentle way he touches her. She leans down, kissing him squarely on the mouth. He uses the opportunity to cup her ass, sliding his hands beneath her panties and pushing them down until they tangle around her thighs.

"Noah!" she protests.

He ignores her as he pushes her off him, and then crawls toward her. His gaze is completely predatory, causing Rachel's insides to quiver. She falls back onto her forearms, her eyes challenging his. He simply smirks at her, yanks her panties the rest of the way down, and pulls his shirt over his head.

"M'gonna fuck you now." He says it so matter-of-factly that she can only nod. He reaches into his pocket, slips the foil packet from within, and tosses it onto the bed before pushing off his pants. When he crawls back onto the bed, he pushes her thighs wide and then fits his hips between them. His hands skate up her thighs, over her hips, and then up under her top. She lets him push it above her head and then carefully slips it over. When his chest presses against her breasts, Rachel sighs in contentment.

"You know we have a lot to talk about, right?"

Noah only nods. He's staring at her nipple. When he dips his head, her breath catches. His mouth closes around her flesh and then she's arching like a cat, her fingers gripping his scalp.

They have so much to talk about. The analytical planner inside her head that likes to guide every aspect of her life is screaming right now. They have to figure out what the future holds for the both of them. It's _critical_ that they figure this out. Noah needs to get away from his old life and start fresh. She knows all this. They _have _to talk. They have to-

Rachel's head falls back, her lids closing. She listens to the sound of his breathing as he flicks his tongue against her breast, shivers when he bites down and then sucks. When his hand slides between her thighs, she pushes her body against him, silently begging for him to take her. She hears the sound of the condom wrapper being torn open and then he fumbles between her thighs for a second before he's gliding into her body. Then and there, she forgets about everything outside that dingy motel door. They have so much that they need to talk about, so much that has to be resolved – except... not right now. Right now, she's on fire.

_~end~_

* * *

**A/N:** I apologize for any errors I didn't catch. I've edited this so many times that all the words have run together so please forgive me! Thanks!


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